She Walks in Beauty (33 page)

“You don’t say?” It was beginning to sound to Gloria like all of a sudden there was more than one option in this world for a person who was handy.

“Especially a talented person.”

“What about an especially talented person who has the keys to Miss New Jersey’s room?”

32

Whew! There was more to this Miss America show than Billy Carroll had imagined. The singing, the dancing, the moves, 100 boobs bouncing around the stage at one time. The two hours went by just like that! Afterward, Billy Carroll was higher than a kite, sitting at the counter in Monopoly’s coffeeshop, trying to get himself around a couple orders of waffles.

“Hi, Mr. Carroll.” A breathy young brunette touched his left elbow.

“Well,
hello,
little lady.” He gave her his big smile and was about to move in closer when he saw Mama on her other side. Mean as a linebacker and a body to match in a red, white, and navy polyester pants suit. Billy reeled his smile back in. “How you doing?”

“We’re doing just fine. We liked your show tonight. Didn’t we, Mama? I told Mama I thought you were every bit as good as Gary Collins. Didn’t I, Mama?”

Mama gave him a semi-weak smile and narrowed her eyes as if Billy, given half a chance, were going to throw her cute little daughter to the floor and molest her right there, not all that far from the truth.

“So you’re here for the pageant?” he said to the daughter.

“I’m Jennifer. Jennifer Lynn Karlsen. I’m into pageants,” the little girl said, smiling around her gum as if she had a secret she was dying for you to find out.

“Really?” He was trying to pay attention to what she was saying but also checking himself out. Patting, to make sure his hair was in place. Sniffing, though right after the show he’d grabbed a quick shower and a change of clothes. As soon as he finished with these waffles, he was going to step into Rich Uncle Pennybags, have himself a couple or four Brandy Alexanders to settle his stomach, and then see if he couldn’t find himself some action. A tender young redhead, maybe, to hang on his arm for luck while he played some baccarat.

“Into pageants, huh? You don’t say. Here, let me light that for you.”

The girl laughed. “You’re going to light my gum?”

Billy looked down. Juicy Fruit, it sure was, the girl had taken out of her purse.
“
You’re
not one of the contestants, are you?” smiling reassuringly at Mama.

“Go on.” The brunette gave his arm a shove. “You think I’d be sitting here? Anyway, haven’t you met all the girls?”

Why, yes, he had. Though not for any length of time, of course. And some of them, well, he knew better than maybe he wanted to, all things considered.

Like Miss New Jersey, for example. He had wanted to know Lana DeLucca
very
well, but once you were in his position as an emcee, things changed. There were other priorities. For instance, you could never tell, those Big Guys at NBC would be watching. See how he did. Who knew when they might decide Collins had gone the distance and they’d be ready for a new stud? One who had already proved himself. And who hadn’t gotten himself into any tights with the girlies. A man in his position needed to think about things like that.

So he hadn’t been exactly thrilled tonight when right before the show, one of those hostesses came up to him saying Lana wanted him to come backstage, up to the dressing area. It was an emergency. The hostess was actually wringing her hands.

He didn’t want it to look like he knew Lana
personally,
not that he did, really, at least not
that
way, but what was he going to do? He couldn’t just say no. Not with Phyllis George standing there giving him that fishy look.

Which reminded him, if and when he did get the show, Phyllis was history. Let her go take care of By George, her fried chicken company. He didn’t like women who were that savvy. He was
married
to one of those.

Anyway, upstairs he’d gone, and there, bouncing up and down out in the hall, right outside the dressing room, was Lana in a long T-shirt, screaming at the top of her lungs that her dress was gone! Somebody had stolen the gown she was wearing for her talent tonight, her lucky gown, the one that was an exact copy, except longer, of Marilyn’s when she sang “I Want to Be Loved By You” in
Some Like It Hot!
It was in her bag she carried over from her room! And then she opened the bag and what was there? A chenille bathrobe! A pink chenille bathrobe like her Nana used to wear! She couldn’t sing in a bathrobe!

Well, no, she couldn’t. Billy would certainly agree to that. But he didn’t know what he was supposed to do about it.

Call somebody! she’d screamed at Billy. Don’t you have juice? Don’t you know people? Aren’t you on TV?

Well, yeah. But, gee.

Then, just like that, Lana said, Fuck you very much, turned to the hostess, and demanded a phone, in her hand, this instant, pronto.

Well, see. That sort of thing couldn’t be good for a man in his position. No favorites, that was the rule, and he’d even learn to be nice to their mothers. Like Mama here, in her patriotic polyester, sitting on the other side of Jennifer.

“Mrs. Karlsen,” he said, practicing, “where are you two pretty ladies from?”

“Michigan. A suburb of Detroit. We’re Norwegian.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes,” Jennifer beamed. “And this year I made ten in my state pageant. Next year I’ll take it, for sure. So my pageant committee told me I ought to come along with the state delegation and see it all firsthand. So I’d know exactly what to expect, you know.”

“Well, that’s great, you think you’re going to be Miss Michigan next year. You’ll sure be a pretty one.”

“Not think. I
know.
I’m completely focused on it.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Completely. You know, in 1988 Gretchen Carlson won. That’s C-A-R-L-S-O-N. I’m K-A-R-L-S-E-N. But we’re both from the Midwest, and both Scandinavian, and have that kind of drive and determination that Scandinavians have, and I’m following her program.”

“Uh-huh.” Billy signaled to the waitress for the check.

“Do you know about Gretchen? First of all, we both have this very serious talent that we’ve been working on since we were little girls. She played the violin. I play the harp. She graduated from Stanford in Organizational Behavior, and I’m following right in her footsteps. Organizational Behavior is a very handy major to have if you’re dealing with people all the time. That’s what the pageant world is—people, people, people.

“And, just like Gretchen, I came in first runner-up in Miss TEEN—that’s Teens Encouraging Excellence Nationally—a couple of years ago. That gave me a taste for pageants and made me realize that I had the basics: the talent, communication skills, discipline—”

“Excuse me. I’m going to have to—” There was only so much a man could listen to. Especially if there was no reward.

“So I went on to Stanford, and every year I’ve tried for state. I made ten each year, and next year’s mine.”

“That’s—”

“For interview, I’ll start six months ahead this time, and do about seventy-five mock ones for practice. I’ll get people from all walks of life to be on my interview panels—you’d be surprised how much people are willing to help—because Miss America needs to be able to reach out to everyone. We’ll videotape every last one of those interviews, and I’ll study them.”

“Do you—”

“I’m practicing how to walk and stand and sit for my interview. If your hands are fidgeting, you can forget what your mouth is saying, because they’ll just be staring at your hands. For the content part, I study current events about two hours a day. And I’ll work out about three hours a day with a body trainer, starting in January. Right now, I do about two hours.”

She’d gotten his attention now. Four hours? Five? Six? When did these girls live?

“Oh,” Jennifer laughed. “That’s just for starters, isn’t it, Mama?”

Mama nodded.

“After I win state, I’ll go down to Texas and have Chuck Weisbeck put me on an Olympic athletes training program. I do other stuff too.”

“Like what?” Billy was fascinated despite himself.

“Well, every single day I watch videotapes of Miss America and other pageants. I watch everything they do. Like right now I’m concentrating on the way the girls react when their names are called for the top ten. When they’re walking across the stage, they always say thank you to the judges, and do this little motion of extending their hands out to them.”

“I’ve always said to thank people,” said Mama. “They may not always remember it if you do, but they sure do if you don’t. You don’t ever want anybody to think you’re rude.”

That was a pretty long speech for Mama, whose mouth clamped right back into a tight line. Billy examined her face to see if, yes, maybe, way back there in the distance she’d looked a tiny bit like Jennifer. Yes, maybe 25 years and 100 pounds ago. It was frightening.

“I’ll use the same exact preparation immediately before the pageant that I do for performing the harp. I read that Gretchen Carlson had a ritual, too. What I do is pray that God will be with me. Then I visualize myself going through the performance. Every single moment of it. I take myself through every step.”

“Including walking down the runway with the crown?” Billy had done something like that, imagined himself on “The Big One,” right up to giving out the prizes, before he got the job.

Jennifer’s eyes shone. “Especially walking down that runway. But only after I’ve gone through every other step. It takes enormous discipline, you know. The main thing is to give them
exactly
what they want. It doesn’t matter what
you
want. But each pageant is different, so you have to figure out what they’re looking for, and then you make yourself over in their ideal image.”

“It takes sacrifice,” said Mama, nodding. “Discipline and sacrifice are what’s important in life.”

Billy bet Mama
loved
Michigan winters, trudging five or six miles through the snow, lugging a stranded cow over her shoulders. And then building a fire. No, building a house and then building a fire. Jesus, these pageant people were weird.

Though he’d bet Miss Lana didn’t know the meaning of the word discipline. In fact, he’d bet Lana had never even broken a sweat.

“We’ve got to be going.” Mama was pushing off, pulling Jennifer along with her. “Got to get to bed. Get up early. Do our calisthenics.”

“Hey, I wish you luck. Hope to see you here next year. Here, let me get your check. Be my pleasure.”

Mama was a little flustered, as if their $12 tab were going to compromise Jennifer somehow.

“I insist. Go on. Get out of here. Go get your beauty sleep. Both of you.” He gave them the wink. He’d learned how to say smooth things like that doing “The Big One.”

Darleen would love these two. He’d have to tell her about them, if she was ever speaking to him again. If she ever got over her change-of-life pout. Of course, when he told her, he’d have to say he talked to them backstage or something. Coffeeshop, late at night, well, Darleen had a very suspicious mind.

“Very nice, very nice.” The gravelly voice was right behind him. “You want to buy my coffee, too? Or maybe I ain’t cute enough.” Billy turned, but he didn’t have to. He’d know Angelo’s voice anywhere. It played in some of his worst nightmares.

Angelo Pizza leaning on him. Angelo holding a gun to his head. Angelo taking his Rachel Rose, saying, We’re just going to borrow her for a little party. You don’t mind, do you, Billy boy, let her work off a little of what you owe us?

But this time, he was
glad
to see the man. “I was gonna call you.” He slapped Ange on the back, carefully.

“Uh-huh.”

“No, really. You know, I’m doing this gig, this Miss America thing, emceeing it, that Gary Collins got sick—”

“I know,” Ange said.

“You do? Really!” Billy was amazed. It didn’t seem like the kind of info Ange would keep up with. Except, these guineas, if you’d owed ’em money, they knew every time you went to the bathroom.

“Yeah, I sawr you this evening.” Ange had that kind of New York accent.

“You did? You were at the Miss America show?”

“Yeah. Miss California won talent. Miss Florida won swimsuit. Nice rack on that girl. What else you want to know?”

“I’m just surprised you were there, that’s all.”

“You think I never leave Tommy’s?”

“Hey, I’m not saying that, Ange. Actually, I was going to call you because I got good news. This gig is paying me a bundle. I’m gonna be able to pay you off—”

“When?”

“When I get my check.”

“The vig don’t wait for checks, Billy. You know that.”

“No, man, really. I’ll give you the whole thing.”

“
I’ll
means I
will,
Bill. In the future. Vig don’t want to know about no
will.
Vig keeps ticking till money is
now.
Vig plus the loan.”